Today I said my last goodbye to a dear friend I work with at the civil engineering firm. As Clint and I drove away from her home I felt a wave of emotion, one of many I've been experiencing but that I couldn't fully grasp until then. I'm not just leaving associates or friends behind. I'm leaving a part of me behind.
I've lived in California most of my life. I was born here, in Glendale to be exact. I love this state for its diverse culture, the arts, the way of life, and especially the people. I may have my contentions about the political scene, I have for many years, but the memories I've made here were with some of the most endearing individuals a person could meet. I have laughed with them, triumphed with them, fought with them, and cried with them. I see their faces shining in the gallery of my life as scepters who reminded me that life is such a wondrous experience, only fully appreciated with good company. They shared a part of themselves with me and for this I am grateful. I will make new friends and those friends will touch me with their unique spirits just as my friends have here. But years down the road when I have laughed with these new friends, triumphed with them, fought with them, and cried with them, I won't forget the people here and how precious each person is to me. I will give thanks that I was blessed to walk by their side.
I love you. I always have, even in the hard times. I always will. I won't be gone. I'll just be somewhere else. No matter where our journeys take us you will always be in my heart.
So goodbye California...goodbye my dear friends.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Purge and surge
The purging process in moving can be both a cathartic and painful experience. Its wonderful to clean out the clutter, but my back...well, that's the pain part.
As Clint and I near our exodus to Texas, cats and company, I'm left to wonder what I'll miss most about California other than the weather. I'll miss my associates who are more my friends than coworkers. I'll miss going to the beach when ever the mood strikes. I'll miss the sunsets, the Starbucks at every corner, and Portos. Oh god...Portos! And most of all I'll miss my friends.
There are many things I won't miss, which are too many to list here, but suffice it to say I bid them all good riddance. Texas is not only a complete change in landscape, but a much welcomed change in lifestyle. Long have I wished for a slower pace, an opportunity to just chew the fat with Buba, and the chance to look up into the night's sky and actually see more than a dozen stars. I want a place to call more than a home. I want to call it my community.
I don't know if Clint and I will settle for good in The Woodlands, but its a good place to start. Its beautiful and picturesque. It has excellent marks for education. The housing is reasonable. And best of all I can take my time and just enjoy my day. Yes, I'll be commuting. Yes, I'll have to deal with the humidity and heat. Yes, I'll need to adjust how I approach people and business. Yes, I'll have to change my attitude. All of this is what I need. It isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.
So I bid California adieu and thank you for all the truly golden memories I've had, but don't worry. I won't let the door hit me on the way out. I'll simply remember what you used to be and what you could have been. I'll remember you for the fun, the joy, and the love I've experienced here.
Now, if you see a pair of Scions whipping by its just Clint and I. We're on a mission to go forth into a new life. Well, more like surge into it. Hey, you would too if you had two cats whining at you for over 1,500 miles.
As Clint and I near our exodus to Texas, cats and company, I'm left to wonder what I'll miss most about California other than the weather. I'll miss my associates who are more my friends than coworkers. I'll miss going to the beach when ever the mood strikes. I'll miss the sunsets, the Starbucks at every corner, and Portos. Oh god...Portos! And most of all I'll miss my friends.
There are many things I won't miss, which are too many to list here, but suffice it to say I bid them all good riddance. Texas is not only a complete change in landscape, but a much welcomed change in lifestyle. Long have I wished for a slower pace, an opportunity to just chew the fat with Buba, and the chance to look up into the night's sky and actually see more than a dozen stars. I want a place to call more than a home. I want to call it my community.
I don't know if Clint and I will settle for good in The Woodlands, but its a good place to start. Its beautiful and picturesque. It has excellent marks for education. The housing is reasonable. And best of all I can take my time and just enjoy my day. Yes, I'll be commuting. Yes, I'll have to deal with the humidity and heat. Yes, I'll need to adjust how I approach people and business. Yes, I'll have to change my attitude. All of this is what I need. It isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.
So I bid California adieu and thank you for all the truly golden memories I've had, but don't worry. I won't let the door hit me on the way out. I'll simply remember what you used to be and what you could have been. I'll remember you for the fun, the joy, and the love I've experienced here.
Now, if you see a pair of Scions whipping by its just Clint and I. We're on a mission to go forth into a new life. Well, more like surge into it. Hey, you would too if you had two cats whining at you for over 1,500 miles.
Friday, February 4, 2011
A South African in snow
El Paso, Texas. Its supposed to be one of the hottest places on Earth. Its a desert...with rocks and dirt.
Yesterday morning someone left the freezer door open, because it was -10 degrees when I got up at the hotel in El Paso. Last time I experienced that kind of freezing conditions was in Wyoming. I never dreamt I'd experience it in Texas. It was so cold I swear hell froze over too and getting the car warmed up for 13+ hours of travel to California was hell in and of itself. That water I left in the cupholder? Frozen.
My husband, the wonderful South African that he is, had never seen a snowflake. He stared at one on the passanger window for a long time, going into a detailed synposis of the size, color and consistency of each flake. Once he was done, he proceeded to pick up a handful of snow and inspect each flake. Without gloves on.
Later that morning, he pumped the gas into the car. One shivering look from him and I knew he was living a personal hell. His hands were red and numb. Those big brown eyes were wide open. I tried to explain that the weather wasn't that bad. I've been in -20 degree weather before. THAT is bad. He didn't care. The only thing Clint cared about was thawing and it wasn't happening fast enough. Let me tell ya, that cold seemed to slip into your bones and freeze them solid. I could see it in his face. It was one circle of frigid hell, because the car heater couldn't keep up.
Eventually, we made it back home and collapsed in our beds.
The next morning, we got up and headed outside for some McDonald's McBreakfast. Clint stepped outside wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It was 45 degrees outside. I told him to put a jacket on. He laughed and said, "This isn't cold. This is balmy!"
And that my friends is how to get a South African to acclimate to frigid temperatures.
Yesterday morning someone left the freezer door open, because it was -10 degrees when I got up at the hotel in El Paso. Last time I experienced that kind of freezing conditions was in Wyoming. I never dreamt I'd experience it in Texas. It was so cold I swear hell froze over too and getting the car warmed up for 13+ hours of travel to California was hell in and of itself. That water I left in the cupholder? Frozen.
My husband, the wonderful South African that he is, had never seen a snowflake. He stared at one on the passanger window for a long time, going into a detailed synposis of the size, color and consistency of each flake. Once he was done, he proceeded to pick up a handful of snow and inspect each flake. Without gloves on.
Later that morning, he pumped the gas into the car. One shivering look from him and I knew he was living a personal hell. His hands were red and numb. Those big brown eyes were wide open. I tried to explain that the weather wasn't that bad. I've been in -20 degree weather before. THAT is bad. He didn't care. The only thing Clint cared about was thawing and it wasn't happening fast enough. Let me tell ya, that cold seemed to slip into your bones and freeze them solid. I could see it in his face. It was one circle of frigid hell, because the car heater couldn't keep up.
Eventually, we made it back home and collapsed in our beds.
The next morning, we got up and headed outside for some McDonald's McBreakfast. Clint stepped outside wearing shorts and a t-shirt. It was 45 degrees outside. I told him to put a jacket on. He laughed and said, "This isn't cold. This is balmy!"
And that my friends is how to get a South African to acclimate to frigid temperatures.
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